A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [94]
She was still deciding when she noticed the other figures on the slope. They were past Worf and off to the side, though her frantic scrambling made it difficult to discern any more about them.
Worf didn’t seem to notice the newcomers. He was too intent on catching up with Pulaski.
But that didn’t last long, because a couple of seconds after Pulaski sighted them, one of the strangers opened fire on the Klingon.
It was a soft, almost indiscernible beam-more of a rippling effect than any visible sort of light. However, it hit Worf like a ton of bricks.
The Klingon toppled, rolled and finally slid to a halt, sprawled on the verdant slope. His ax ended up a couple of meters from his open hand.
As she gained her balance, and the strangers began to descend, Pulaski felt her heart sink. For she saw now how much they resembled the marshals.
Nor was there any way she could outrun them. Not as long as they had weapons like that one.
Vaguely, she wondered what the penalty might be for desertion.
While the others slid and scuttled down the slope to help the warrior’s intended victim, Dan’nor approached the warrior himself.
Curiously, the still form was missing some of its armor. Dan’nor wondered how that could have come about-even as he stopped by its side and knelt, blaster at the ready.
It turned out, however, that there was no need for caution. The warrior was truly unconscious.
Replacing his weapon in his belt, Dan’nor turned the combatant over to get a better look at him-to see if he needed any immediate medical attention. After all, he could have injured himself when he fell.
The Klah’kimmbri was surprised to see a face that he recognized. He almost smiled. Wasn’t this the one he’d seen on the screen that time? The one who had seemed so efficient to him?
He couldn’t be sure it was the same warrior. After all, he’d had a helm on then, and it had concealed part of his face. But Dan’nor was almost sure.
What was he doing here, so far from the fighting? Dan’nor looked down slope, saw that the other rebels had caught up with the fleeing female. Perhaps she could shed some light on this.
As Ma’alor and the others trudged back up the incline, it seemed that the female was almost eager to reach the warrior. She was climbing faster than any of them. Strange behavior, thought Dan’nor, for one who was so recently striving to get away from him.
At the last, the female knelt on the unconscious one’s other side. She pulled his eyelid up-to expose his staring eyeball-harumphed, and let it down again. Then she put a finger to his neck, just below the line of his jaw.
“He’s not hurt,” Dan’nor offered. “Not really. It was just a small jolt.”
“He should be up in half an hour,” said Ma’alor, standing over them-not an easy trick on this steep a hill. “Maybe less, judging by the size of him.”
The female nodded. “I agree.” She looked up at Ma’alor. “And since you didn’t lie to me about this, I’m more inclined to believe the rest of it-that you aren’t a pack of marshals bent on bringing us back for punishment.” She surveyed the other faces around her. “But then, what are you? What are you doing here?”
Ma’alor shook his head. “First, I want some more information from you. How you came to find your memory, for instance. And what your link is to this one here.” He indicated the warrior.
The female told them-appearing to hold nothing back. As she spoke, Dan’nor got an entirely new perspective on the error he’d made as Fulfillment Facilitator-the mistake that plunged this Pulaski and her crew mates into the Conflicts.
He also found that he liked something about the female. There was a strength in her, a resolve-not unlike the quality he had come to admire in Trien’nor.
“Remarkable,” said Ma’alor, when she had finished. “You’re saying that a simple, bright flash was enough to restore all your memories.”
“That’s right,” said Pulaski. “Now it’s your turn. If you’re not marshals, what’s your business here?”
Ma’alor didn’t tell her everything, but he